


Speak each other in passing

by kerithwyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: Cara's perspective, Episode 4.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	Speak each other in passing

The whole early retirement thing sounded good when she left (deserted) the service, but the reality is full of long, monotonous days. She wouldn’t be the first vet to drink herself to death out of sheer boredom. Good thing Cara doesn’t enjoy being drunk. It makes her slow, vulnerable. But even without descending into a spotchka coma, she’s wasting away the daylight and sleeping too much.

Fighting the Mandalorian wakes her up. After their initial misunderstanding, he’s pretty decent for a guy married to his armor. She’d explore the possibility of prying him out of it, but she prefers something softer between her legs. And he’s clearly on the run with his moppet, not looking for recreation.

She sends him packing, but he returns that evening. Somehow, he talks her into a “mission” to protect a remote village from raiders. They both pretend it’s about the offer of secluded lodging, but honestly, she accepts because she’s bored as fuck.

She stops being bored when they find the AT-ST tracks. The damn Imps made their way to this backwater planet—no resource left unraided—or the raiders scavenged the thing and brought it here. Either way, it’s a hell of a weapon for marauders, which is probably why they’ve suddenly grown the stones to attack the formerly peaceful village.

She and the Mandalorian agree that they can’t fight it, right up to the moment he decides the villagers can help. It’s a dicey proposition, asking civilians to fight, but they’re determined to protect their home. Cara’s seen this before, natives pushed past endurance by Imperial incursions. Yeah, they’ll win or die trying. She respects that.

She takes on the task of whittling logs into spears and teaching these fish farmers to stab and shoot and kill. They’re not awful, some of them. At least they’re strong and sturdy, more than some of the overly enthusiastic Republic recruits. Omera, surprisingly, is a dead shot. There’s a story there, but it’s not the time to ask and Cara isn’t inclined to pry.

They’re as ready as they can be when she and the Mandalorian head out to rile up the raiders and draw them in. It’s classic strategy, fighting on their chosen ground with prepared traps, but Cara still wishes they had more seasoned resources. Still, running just ahead of the walker’s blaster fire reminds her that she’s alive: blood pumping, heart racing, grinning through the exertion.

That must be why she runs out in front of the walker, goading it to step into the lake trap. She shoots out a sensor-eye, it takes the bait, and the Mandalorian finishes it with a grenade. Teamwork and noble goals win out, or something like that.

Then it’s all over but the dying: some of hers, more of theirs. That’s as much as she could’ve hoped for.

The next few weeks pass without incident. It’s a nice place, she thinks. A little sedate, but nice. If the Mandalorian doesn’t step up, she might take a run at the beautiful widow herself. Cara likes the way she shoots.

It’s pleasant here, a quiet life watching the children play. She’d never wanted a nipple-biter of her own, content to watch them when they’re ultimately Somebody Else’s Problem.

The Mandalorian’s kid is the cutest. Almost lethally cute. Cara has traveled a lot, seen people of every shape and size and color, and she doesn’t recognize that species. From somewhere in the Outer Rim, maybe, or even the Unknown Regions.

Old habits die hard. That’s why she’s casually taking a walk—okay, patrolling—when she sees the intruder sneaking toward the village. He stops to consult a tracking fob. Bounty hunter, but not after her.

She follows and he doesn’t notice her, not when he stops to set his gun, not when she pulls her blaster. He takes aim and she fires. That’s all she wrote, thank you for playing.

The Mandalorian is right, though. The big fight will draw more attention and the kid will draw more hunters. Cara doesn’t want any part of either. Those Imperial warlords have kin with long memories.

So she’s leaving too. She has credits, both Imp and Pub, but most traveling freighters take her passage in labor. Without the ever-watchful Imperial eye—not that she misses that—and the NR still getting its shit together, pirates run rampant through the space lanes. Everyone needs a strong arm and she’s as handy with a ship gun as a blaster.

She wishes the New Republic well—it’s what she fought for, after all. But the battle got her adrenaline pumping and she can’t pretend that’s not where she finds her thrill. There’s plenty of fight to be found further out, on border planets and even into the Unknown. Along the way she might discover something about the green kid and send word back to the Mandalorian.

Maybe she’ll find a place to settle, maybe she won’t. The last couple of months point to the latter. Boredom is the true enemy, and Cara knows about enemies. Surrender means death, can’t be outrun, so a fight it’s gotta be.

Honestly, she’s looking forward to it.


End file.
